


Can't Stop Staring

by Cosmicserenity



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Because fuck canon, Blindness, Canon Compliant, Cas is still clueless on social skills, Castiel brainrot, Ceramic appreciation, Cute, Dean's scared to stop being a hunter, Fix-It, Fluff, Handholding, M/M, Overprotective Dean, angst but just a lil bit, but not really, like a dumbass, like twice, which is a lot when you're touch-starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27706787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cosmicserenity/pseuds/Cosmicserenity
Summary: “Tell me more about what you see.” Dean whispered, secretly just wanting to feel the heat from Castiel’s breath on his ear again and shamelessly enjoying the closeness between them.“I see beauty, and power, and everything I’ve ever wanted in my short time on this Earth.”“...Stop looking at me, Cas.”“Ah.” Castiel sounded sheepish and pulled away from Dean’s ear, coughing awkwardly into his hand. “I didn’t think you’d catch that.”There was a wistful, happy sigh from his left as Castiel took hold of Dean's hand, holding it gently as the two walked down the street, their box of half eaten pie tucked squarely under Dean's arm and their eyes on a skyline that neither of them were too focused on anymore.Alternate Title: The two explore a quaint southern town, eat pie and re-learn how to assemble a gun while Sam damn near dies by a Party City nail.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 39





	Can't Stop Staring

**Author's Note:**

> Another day, another fic, another way to remind myself that I am perpetually single.  
> I like the idea of mortal Cas and blind Dean, it's been living in my head for the past 3 days. I also like the idea of Sam and Dean kinda at each other's throats- that's fun too. This fic has both.
> 
> ***A continuation of an AU where Dean sacrifices his sight to escape from the empty with Cas***
> 
> (Special thanks to LA Dispute, IDKHOW, and Joyce Manor for helping me get through this fic lmao xx)

“Don’t forget to always aim for the head.”

“I’ve got it, Dean.”

“And don’t forget to be frugal with your ammo. You can’t shoot too much.”

“Got it, Dean.”

“And don’t forget to-”

“Jesus Christ, Dean, I’ve got it already.” 

Dean was never a worrier before- hell, he was the opposite- but this time, things were different. Sam was leaving on a job for the first time since Chuck, for the first time since… well, everything, and Dean refused to accept the fact that he couldn’t protect his little brother like he always did. If shit went south, and Sam went down, Dean couldn’t be there to defend him-- and the mere thought of it made the hairs on his arms stand and his palms sweat. Still, Sam was adamant that he’d be fine, and so Dean was preparing to let him go without backup.

Even if he really, really didn’t want to.

“You just make sure that _you’re_ alright." Sam retorted. "I know you still aren’t used to the whole… no sight thing.”

“‘The whole ‘no sight’ thing’?” Dean asked, raising a brow and leaning against the side of Baby. 

Sam coughed in a way that let Dean know he was uncomfortable, but he didn’t care. He needed him to say it, to acknowledge it. They wouldn’t be able to move on until the fact indicated by Dean’s cloudy eyes and far off look finally felt normal.

“...You’re blind, Dean.”

“Ah,” Dean put a hand to his temple and groaned, acting like the word ‘blind’ had been buried under the rest of his vocabulary and forgotten there. “There it is.”

Before either of them could say anything else that revived the ‘many issues of Sam going on a hunt alone’ conversation and the ‘Dean was being too protective’ argument that hid in said conversation, a warm, built arm suddenly wrapped around Dean’s shoulder and brought him close, the familiar feeling of polyester material and the satisfying scent of spearmint being all he needed to recognize the man beside him.

“He’ll be fine, Sam. I’ll make sure of it.”

Castiel’s eternally matter-of-fact tone and calm demeanor was a welcome feeling in the middle of Dean’s worriedness and Sam’s defensiveness, and it was like a godsend had washed over the both of them. How ironic, considering Cas’ newfound mortality. 

Sam gave a resigned sigh and shuffled around in the trunk one more time, grabbing extra supplies just in case before slamming it shut. “Alright then. If either of you need anything, call me.”

“I could say the same to you, Sammy.”

Sam laughed. " I'll be fine- I'm the smartest one out of the both of us. After all, I'm not the one that made a deal with The Empty, remember?"

"Hardee har har." The sarcasm was dripping off of Dean's tongue. "If you remember, that deal was what kept me and Cas up here in the first place. Who's the smarter one now?"

"Hm.... tough call, but still me."

Dean lifted himself from the car and heard the door creak open as Sam hopped in, closing the driver’s door with a dull thunk and quickly pulling off towards the job’s location- a secluded mansion further ahead, hidden behind thick brush and even thicker fog. Finally, it was just Dean and Cas, now, in the middle of a dead country town with no plans and a helluva lot of time to kill. It almost felt honeymoonish, in a weird but strangely comfortable way, and Dean could tell that Castiel was just as clueless as he was when it came to what the fuck they were gonna do.

As much as neither one of them wanted to say it, living like normal people was like pulling teeth. It was uncomfortable to be something less than a hunter but more than a normal person, going through each day knowing there was something greater in the world but being powerless to stop it. But it was their life, at least for now it was, and they had to make the most of it today.

Well, the thought sounded appealing, but deep down, Dean knew that the idea of ‘making the most of it’ wouldn’t be enough for him. It never was.

“Where should we go, Dean?”

Dean shrugged, giving a curt sigh and turning around towards what he felt was the town’s entrance. “Anywhere, Cas. Just lead the way.”

That was all the invitation he needed. Taking his arm off of Dean’s shoulder and electing to hold his hand, instead, something that made Dean surprisingly giddy, Castiel headed them off into a random direction with no other objective than to have the two of them explore the town and relax, as Sam instucted and as he had been looking forward to. Dean was tired of ‘relaxing’, if he was being completely honest, but he decided to withstand it for as long as he could so that he could enjoy the day with his angel- especially once Castiel started to swing their hands back and forth and shout out everything he saw in a way that felt like a weird form of overexcited escapism.

“Cas!” Dean called, darting his head around like he would magically be able to see people staring back at them.

“Yeah?”

“Inside voice, alright? I’m right here.”

“But we’re… outside.”

Dean paused, contemplating his next few sentences. “Yeah, you’re right about that part. We’ll say 'a quiet voice', instead.”

“How quiet?” Castiel whispered.

“Quiet like you’re inside.”

“Oh, alright.”

Dean felt a laugh bubble up from his stomach and couldn’t help the grin that followed afterwards, and he shook his head and bit his lip to stop himself from going overboard. “You know, I love that part of you, Cas.”

He didn’t know why Castiel suddenly stopped when he said that, but he didn’t dwell on it for too long. He didn’t dwell on it at all, in all honesty, and Castiel cleared his throat and kept walking just like nothing had happened.

They soon stopped in front of an old brick building, and Dean could’ve smelt the intensity of rubbing oil and incense from a mile away. It already felt like it would be one of those older, devious looking thrift stores that everyone saw and no one wanted to walk into, but he didn’t move if Castiel didn’t move- and Castiel wasn’t even acting like he wanted to as he fixated on the inside of the building from the storefront window. This was going to be fun.

“They have ceramics, Dean. Small ones.”

“Of course they have ceramics.” Dean replied. “It smells like an old ass thrift store.”

“It _is_ a thrift store!” Castiel exclaimed, shifting his attention back to the man next to him. “How did you know?”

“It just… smells like one. Bobby took me to loads of these sorts of places once while on a mission. There was so much Nag Champa smoke I damn near died.”

“That’s not good.”

“That’s _not_ good.” Dean repeated. “So… do you want to go in?”

“Yes.”

And with the ring of a doorbell and the gentle hello of an old shopkeeper, they were in the shop.

While Castiel explored, Dean wandered around quietly and tried not to bump into any displays, picking up and feeling random objects to get a better idea of the place. The furthest he had gotten were a few pepper shakers (?) and fancy feeling lighter that he liked until Cas had made his way back to him, tapping him on the shoulder and waiting for him to turn around. _At least that part stayed the same._

“Dean, do you want to know what’s in my hand?” Castiel asked eagerly, standing in front of him and quite obviously holding the object out like it was a first place trophy. 

“I’m a bit scared to ask.”

“It’s a ceramic piece… of a humanoid bee.... sitting on a couch and drinking a beer glass filled with honey.”

There was a silence so dead they could have been at a graveyard, with Castiel waiting for Dean to say something and Dean trying his hardest to find even an ounce of humor in that mental image.

“Hah.” Dean deadpanned. “That’s hilarious, Cas.”

“I know, right?” Dean could hear the porcelain chink against plastic trench coat buttons as Castiel’s jacket swayed against his legs and got even closer, the man nearly bouncing with energy. “It’s amusing, because bees not only can’t sit on or possess couches, but they can’t bottle or distribute honey either. Because they don’t have hands!”

“You should buy it.” 

“Should I?”

“If it makes you that happy, then absolutely.” Dean nodded, gesturing around the store. “That’s the basic definition of retail therapy.”

“I need to know more about this ‘retail therapy’.” Castiel whispered.

“Buy more shit like that, and you will.”

“...”

“That sounds like a flawless plan, Dean.”

Castiel whizzed away like a kid in a candy store, and Dean could hear the clinking of even more ceramics as he grabbed every piece he laughed at- which was a lot more than Dean had originally expected. In the end, Cas purchased what he said was fifteen, but was probably more, and described them all to him with endless detail as they walked out of the store and continued down the main street.

They walked, explored, talked and repeated the process for a few more times until Dean felt Castiel stop again, this time fixated on another storefront in another building. This one was more crowded, though, as Dean felt people brush up against him more times than he would have liked, and he felt Cas put the bag of ceramics in his hand as he prepared to leave.

“Wait here.” Castiel commanded, quickly patting Dean’s shoulder before disappearing into an unknown building and leaving him with nothing but the sound of rustling leaves, overhead door bells and the autumn breeze to keep me company.

“Cas? What did you- what did-” he started, but he knew it was too late. Cas was already gone, much to his distaste, and he had no choice but to wait until his boyfriend came back for him. _His boyfriend._ What an astoundingly surreal thing to describe Castiel as.

Dean waited with an impatient glare as the time passed on, anxiously tapping his foot and leaning up against the storefront. He moved to turn around and finally walk in the building, not knowing where the door would be yet determined to find out-- but just as he took his first step, he felt Cas approach him with the sounds of even more bags in his hands. He really took the ‘retail therapy’ thing seriously, didn’t he?

“Ta-dah!” Castiel shoved a warm box into Dean’s stomach, and the refreshing smell of blueberry pie floated up his nose and hit him like a freight truck. 

“Is this…?”

“Yes, it’s pie. Your favorite. I also got hamburgers.” Cas paused for a while. “I wanted to surprise you with something you’d actually enjoy, since the ceramics apparently had little effect.”

A small smile crept up on Dean’s face as he held the box in his hands, and Castiel made his way back over to his side like he belonged there. “Would you like to go eat? There’s a small park up ahead, it has an excellent view of the… forestry.”

“Just forestry?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow and keeping his hold on the box of pie tight as the two resumed their walk down the street.

“Yes.”

“Well then, I’m glad I can’t see.” He replied with a dry chuckle. “That seems boring as hell.”

Cas puffed, but snatched one of Dean’s hands and led him to the park’s entrance, finding a small park bench by an old oak tree and directing him to the seat. The two ate their lunch and made idle conversation in the meantime, relishing in the moment of just being alone, and peace floated around in the atmosphere as relaxed and serene as an old love song.

It was all so beautiful, and picturesque, and peaceful, and Dean could almost bring himself to like it-- but he still felt like something was missing. 

He knew he would from the beginning. 

Dean didn’t think he deserved to live life the ‘easy way’, which he had come to realize the more their little ‘date’ went on, and even though he loved being around Cas, he didn’t love feeling like he was a burden. Like he was weak, and had to be protected. Over time, he had gotten so used to seeing the gruesome reality of bloodshed that he couldn’t function in a world without it, and he hated how he couldn’t just put it all past him and settle into the blissful fantasy of happiness that he was already standing in the doorway of. But facts were facts, as he was always so quick to point out to himself whenever he got ‘too emotional’, and he had already acknowledged that wearing the Winchester name was a bind to a curse of duty that could never be broken.

Before Castiel could make a move to leave, packing up the rest of their food with a soft rustle of the plastic bags, Dean slipped a gun he had taken from the trunk of the car out of his pocket and showed it off like a badge of honor, putting a finger in the air to silence any objections that would come his way and clearing his throat.

“Teach me how to shoot again, Cas.” 

He had steeled himself in his decision, already immune to any concerns or commands that would come his way, and he knew Castiel would be more than able to understand that by the look on his face alone. It didn’t stop Cas from groaning, though, much to Dean’s annoyance.

“If Sam knew what we were doing, what you were trying to do--”

“Enough.” Dean didn’t want to hear what ‘Sam would do if he knew’, and he didn’t care, either. This- this empty, average person that did nothing but enjoy the sounds of nature and make shallow conversation- it wasn’t who he was, or who he was supposed to be. In the end, he was a hunter, and he wasn’t going to let the clouds that dulled his eyesight stop him from being just that. It was all he knew, all he was, and he couldn’t wait around like some sitting duck for the worst to happen. He was going to protect Sam, and he was going to make sure that he could protect Castiel, too. It was the only thing that could make him feel like himself, again.

“How will you be able to aim?”

“Close range is always an option.”

“And if you get the wrong target?”

“I never have before, and I won’t now.”

“Dean--”

“Just show me what to do, Cas. I need to learn from scratch.” Dean paused for a moment. “ _Please_.”

Castiel sighed, but he took the gun from Dean’s hands and set it down on the table, disassembling it with an ease his lover had lost for what felt like an eternity ago.

“Give me your hands. I’ll show you the way.”

“You’ll show me the way?” Dean repeated and smirked despite himself, feeling the heat from Castiel’s palms warm his cool knuckles as he gently rested his hands on his. “That sounds like an invitation.”

“And if it was?”

He swallowed, tensing up at the words and widening his eyes at how easily and effortlessly Cas could say them in that same tone of his. He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t say anything at all, and he heard a small snort come from the other side of the picnic table.

_Shit, he got me._

“Here.” Castiel directed him to an unknown but intimate hunk of steel and aluminum and let his hands wander around it like a lost child, making sure to feel every aspect of it and let the texture be ingrained into his mind. Dean felt something, like he was onto something, but he wasn’t going to lie- he had no fucking clue what the thing in his hands was. 

“Do you recognize what that is?”

“Of course.” 

There was an empty silence, where Cas was waiting on Dean to say what it was and where Dean was cursing the existence of his pride like a catholic priest.

“It’s the empty magazine.” Castiel said finally, still sounding as patient as ever but somehow managing to simultaneously make Dean feel like an idiot. “I put the bullets on the table.”

“Psh. I knew that.”

“Did you, Dean?”

“...No, not really.”

There was another laugh, one so symphonic, long and alluring that it made Dean’s heart turn into melted butter and his legs feel like Jello, and he couldn’t help but blush at the refreshing sound of it ringing in his ears. Castiel didn’t laugh often, but when he did it was breathtaking- and Dean wasn’t used to being breathless all day. Slowly, though, that fact was changing, and Castiel being his boyfriend was the leading cause for it.

“Are you gonna keep laughing, or show me how to work this damn thing?”

_But I'd be fine either way, 'cause I could listen to you laugh forever. Like a Kansas CD on repeat._

“Of course, Dean.” Castiel put a hand to Dean’s cheek and slowly rubbed his thumb against his auburn brown stubble, and Dean could hear the smile that was in his words. He wished he could see it, too, but it was too late for that. All he could do was imagine it, and his general picture of it was good enough.

Cas’ hand left his face just as soon as it arrived, which made Dean pout a bit, but the slightly irritated feeling was replaced with a laser-sharp focus as he put his hands back down on the magazine. With a slow voice and an easy approach, he showed him the anatomy of a gun from the beginning, making sure Dean knew what each element felt like down to the finest details before moving onto the next. From the magazine capacity to the feeling of the bullets, nothing went uncovered, and it took about an hour alone just to be able to load the gun halfway. It was boring, and repetitive, and Dean really just wanted to get into the good parts of it, but he was determined to commit it all to memory. He figured it was the only choice he had.

But before long, Dean felt the night air cling to his back like a blanket, and he could tell that they had spent a lot more time just sitting together on that park bench than they had originally intended to.

“You could have told me it was getting dark, Cas.” Dean murmured lowly, taking his hands off of the barrel of the pistol and drumming his fingers on the edge of the table. “I know you didn’t want to spend this much time just… doing this. With me.” He sounded awkward, which he hated, but he just didn’t know how to stop being so uncertain. He was always uncertain with Castiel, he realized, but whether that was because of what happened or how he felt about him was anybody’s guess. But it wasn’t _that_ hard a guess, in hindsight, because Dean’s emotions had taken a complete 180 the minute he decided that he was in love with Cas.

“I just want to be with you, Dean.” There were sounds of clicking as Castiel reassembled the gun and handed it back to him, letting his hand linger in that position for a moment before pulling away and standing up. “It never mattered what we did, as long as I got to see you next to me.”

_Even though I pretty much forced you to teach me how to load and assemble a gun for the past… however long we’ve been sitting here?_

Dean kept that thought to himself and instead looked away with a laugh, feeling an unknown emotion sink from his mind and settle into his feet like concrete in the ocean. Castiel was going to give him a heart attack one of these days with how much he made sparks ignite in his bloodstream and fires start in his veins without even having to try too hard, and he was pretty damn positive that Cas was hardly even aware of that fact.

But that was who Castiel was now, apparently. Or was he always like that, unabashedly enamored and helplessly devoted- and Dean just never paid attention to it? How long did Cas spend waiting for him to realize that he was in love with him, all while Dean was running 5 steps ahead and spending all of his life looking forward to ‘the next hunt’? Was he still doing it, even after losing his vision, and was Castiel still waiting for Dean to finally just be in the moment with him, all while watching him repeat the process like a constant cycle yet again? This was why he needed to get back into hunting, and stay away from this ‘tranquility’ bullshit. Doing nothing for too long made him think too much, and he didn’t like that at _all_.

“You’ve become a little Casanova ever since you lost your Grace, huh?” Dean, ignoring the way his heart was thumping in his throat, followed suit and hopped from the park bench, wobbling a bit as he stood up but feeling oddly proud at how he didn’t need assistance.

“If I did, I got it from the best.” 

“Damn straight.”

Dean walked over to the sound of Castiel’s voice and stuck close to him, falling into that same scent of mint as he let him lead back towards the middle of the city. The walk was long, though Dean didn’t necessarily mind, and they talked about any and everything as Cas whispered deep descriptions of the nightlife of the town in his ear, learning his lesson from earlier that day, painting a picture just for Dean to see and trying his hardest to make sure that the both of them could get swept up in the beauty that came from the soft yellow string lights that lined the awnings above them and the small quaintness of the town that stood all around them. 

Castiel told him about the stars that shone in the sky and the reflections of the streetlights in puddles that sat in the street, about dogs he saw trotting quickly with their owners towards ramshackled apartment buildings and shutters closing on old antique stores. He told Dean everything, no matter how important or pointless it was, and soon he could see the town in his mind with such vivid detail that it almost felt like he was seeing it himself. It was so warm, and it made him feel a level of comfort so overbearing that he was both afraid of and desperately craved it.

“Tell me more about what you see.” Dean whispered, secretly just wanting to feel the heat from Castiel’s breath on his ear again and shamelessly enjoying the closeness between them.

“I see beauty, and power, and everything I’ve ever wanted in my short time on this Earth.”

“...Stop looking at me, Cas.”

“Ah.” Castiel sounded sheepish and pulled away from Dean’s ear, coughing awkwardly into his hand. “I didn’t think you’d catch that.”

“Wouldn’t catch it? I invented that line.”

There was a wistful sigh from his left as Castiel took hold of Dean's hand, slowly intertwining their fingers as the two walked down the street, their box of half eaten pie tucked squarely under Dean's arm and their eyes on a skyline neither of them were too focused on anymore.

The conversation faded over time as the two of them lost themselves in their thoughts, though there was a comfortable silence that had taken its place, and Dean felt Castiel slow his pace as they got closer and closer to their rendezvous point. Was Sam there already? He’d better have been, because Dean was still just as nervous as he had been since he heard those tires screech away earlier that day- and the longer time went on, the more that anxiousness grew.

“Took you…. Long… enough.”

 _Just in time._ Dean smiled at the sound of his brother’s voice, as tired as it might have been, and gave an acknowledging nod. He figured that everything with his younger brother was fine, aside from his labored breath, but that relief ended when he felt Castiel freeze in his spot, inadvertently yanking Dean back with him. “Sam, what… happened to you?”

“What? What’s going on?”

Dean let go of Castiel immediately and shot off towards the sound of Sam’s voice like a bullet, bumping into him and instantly smelling the thick metallic scent of blood that he had gotten so used to over the years. Sam was hurt, he had to be, and the heaviness of that fact weighed on Dean’s body like a grand piano. 

“Sammy? Sam--goddamnit, _Sam_ , are you alright?” Dean’s voice was breaking more and more with each word he spoke as he gripped his brother’s arms with the might of a giant, too afraid to let go, too nervous to stop his eyes from welling up and too worried to stop shaking. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go alone. I fucking knew-”

“I’m fine, Dean.” Sam’s voice was small as he pulled Dean away. “It’s not my blood.”

_It’s not his blood._

_Fuck, it’s not his blood._

The suffocating weight evaporated as Dean sighed, slumping his shoulders and squeezing his eyes closed as he kept his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Shit, Sam. I thought- I thought something had happened to you.”

“Something did happen to me.” Sam shrugged with a laugh, taking off his jacket and tossing it in the backseat floor of the car. “I got jumped by like 4 zombies, and a vampire that I recognized but forgot the name of, and then I damn near got impaled by a rusted nail that looked like it came from Party City. You should see the bruises.”

“That’s not funny, Sam.” Dean warned, running a still shaking hand through his hair. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt at all. If I knew that you couldn’t handle it, Cas and I would have come with you.”

“‘I shouldn’t have gotten hurt at all’? ‘I couldn’t handle it’?” 

Sam scoffed with a bitter chuckle, and the eyeroll was obvious. “I was absolutely going to get hurt Dean, it’s what happens when you’re fighting supernatural fucking entities. That doesn’t mean that I don’t know how to fight.”

“Sam--” 

“It’s whatever, Dean. Just drop it.” Sam interjected. “How… How was you two’s day together?” The question sounded less like he was genuinely curious and more like he just wanted to change the subject before things got ugly, and Dean felt his jaw clench as he reluctantly let the topic drop.

“It was fine, Sam. Very… eventful. I also got ceramics.” Castiel’s voice was in a hushed murmur, like he didn’t know whether or not to contribute to the conversation between them. Dean didn’t blame him- Sam was being a bitch.

“Eventful?” Sam asked, but changed his mind as soon as he did. “Never mind. It might be something sexual that I very much don’t want to know about.”

Dean chuckled and heard a similar sound behind him, though the mood was just as tense as it had been before, and they all stood waiting for a joke or sentence that would never come to ease the mood. When another breeze swept around them like an incentive to action, the three gave up their waiting and silently climbed into the car, with Castiel nestled comfortably next to Dean in the backseat.

The car revved to a start as Sam pulled off yet again, heading to another location in Yonkers and driving idly to the mellow sounds of Joleyne, the country melody being the only sound that echoed within the Chevrolet Impala. An unknown tranquility rode with them, like a foreign feeling between strangers, and Dean just couldn’t understand why Sam was so on edge, all of a sudden.

He was concerned, like he was _supposed_ to be as Sam’s big brother. It was his responsibility to make sure he was safe, and whether that was by nagging at him or protecting him some other way, he was going to make sure that nothing changed. That he could still be the protector that he was convinced he needed to be. Sam had to understand that, and if he couldn’t, then Dean would have to _make_ him.

So, when they had only gotten halfway towards their destination, Dean piped up and let words that he knew would cause problems escape into the air.

“I’m learning how to shoot again, Sam. Before long, I’ll be hunting again, too.”  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> (I don't know how I managed to fit a pie excursion, gun-education lesson and two tense conversations in this story all within 5k words, but bitch, we did it lmao)


End file.
